Chapter 21
Nest
The brakes squeaked as the Jeep trundled to a stop on the remains of the overgrown eastern maintenance road. Sunlight filtered down through the treetops thirty feet above, casting leaf shaped shadows on the mud caked tarmac.
Dodgson clicked off the ignition quietly, and sat back in the warm black leather of his seat. The engine clicked occasionally in the comparative silence, and the jungle sounds seemed suddenly amplified. He listened for a moment to the drone of cicadas and the croaking of frogs, rubbing his forehead to clear his faint headache. Drumming his fingers on the inside of his door, he inspected the GPS display panel on the dashboard. It showed a blue tinted topographical map of the island, which slowly rotated in a three dimensional representation. The map was laced faintly with green contour lines, indicating major height variations. At the bottom right hand corner there was an arrow indicating north, and a scale in miles. On the south-eastern edge of the island, roughly half a mile inland, there was a bright red isosceles triangle, which was pulsating in brightness, pointing north, bearing the label 'Wrnglr'.
"You're sure this is accurate?" he asked Edgar, who sat beside him, typing on the laptop computer.
"I've doubled checked it, it's accurate within five feet," replied Edgar, not looking up from the screen. Edgar shifted his position in his seat slightly, adjusting the bundles of paper that he had laid out in front of him.
The red triangle showed their current location on the island, which was supported by an experimental private satellite system. Edgar was now imputing the first infa-red data compilation that Dodgson had downloaded from satellite overpasses of the island over the past several years. It would indicate the precise location of the first nesting site, and how to get there.
They had been driving agonizingly slow for over an hour to make it to the road. The road leading away from the East dock had been dangerously overgrown, and they had been forced to make several detours around fallen trees and tangles of vines, trying to find spaces big enough for the Jeep and the trailer, until they had made it to one of the wider maintenance roads – where they now sat – which was in good enough quality to drive on.
The air conditioning system was running at full blast in order to keep the temperature at a reasonable level; Dodgson didn't want the window down in this place. He actually felt quite comfortable in the cool atmosphere, despite the cramped conditions.
"Okay Lew, first compilation complete, uploading now," said Edgar.
Dodgson watched as a red loading bar appeared at the top of the GPS screen, which quickly scrolled across the screen, then disappeared. With a beep, a small blue circle appeared on the map, pulsating in the same way as the red triangle, reading 'Clstr1'. It was situated to the south west of them, near the southern tip of the island.
"Good," said Dodgson, "now we need our route."
Edgar began typing rapidly again. "Initiating Route Finder," he said.
Dodgson had studied the satellite images of the island carefully before arriving on the island, and had programmed in all of the roads on the island that looked in good enough condition to use. But he wasn't overly confident that he had done it properly, as he had programmed in the road that had led them here from the dock, and that had been a disaster.
He watched intently as Edgar hit the return key on the laptop, and then a white line began to snake its way from the red triangle, wiggling its way south, along the eastern road. After a mile or so, it diverged from the maintenance road, and ran along a dirt path for half a mile, heading west. Then it turned south again sharply, along a much wider road. This then carried on for another two and a half miles, until it came to a stop right next to the blue cluster.
Dodgson tapped the screen twice where the blue cluster was located. There was an electronic beep, and the map zoomed in. The scale changed from miles to hundreds of meters. Now it showed that the first cluster was only fifty meters away from the wider road, in the jungle.
Perfect, thought Dodgson. The wide road would provide an excellent quick getaway, should they need it.
"Ready?" he asked Edgar. He went to turn the key in the ignition, but paused when he saw Edgar's face.
Edgar was staring blankly at the laptop computer monitor, frowning slightly. His fingers were frozen, suspended over the keyboard in the typing position.
"What?" asked Dodgson irritably.
Edgar didn't say a word; he just span the laptop around in his lap so that Dodgson could see.
The screen was blank, except for a single green word in the top left corner: Login.
Dodgson raised his eyebrows. "What the fuck is this?" he asked.
"I don't know," said Edgar, shrugging.
"What do you mean you don't know? How the fuck did you get to that?"
"I didn't touch anything!"
"Oh, so it just did this by itself?"
"Lew, I activated the Route Finder, and then the whole screen filled with static. Then this popper up."
Dodgson rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. He recognized the signs; he was sure of what it was. But on this island…it couldn't be. "A radio network?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.
"Looks like it," shrugged Edgar, turning the screen back to face him.
"But that'd need power to operate," whispered Dodgson, shaking his head.
"Well, are you sure the wrangler doesn't have some kind of onboard system?"
"No, why would it? I had this vehicle built to my exact specification."
"Maybe it's a dead system, like a leftover."
"You mean just a login screen?"
"Yeah, it could be."
"Only one way to find out," said Dodgson, "type your name."
Edgar looked at him strangely for a second, as if questioning his sanity. Dodgson knew that it wouldn't let him in if he did that; he just wanted to see if it was in fact an active radio network.
Edgar typed in his name, and hit the return key. He waited for a second, and then looked up, and shook his head.
"What happened?" asked Dodgson.
"Nothing," answered Edgar, "it froze for a second, and then went back to the login page."
"Try user."
Another second passed.
"Nothing."
Dodgson sighed, and scratched the back of his head. "Type help," he said suddenly.
Edgar shrugged, and began typing. The laptop whirred, and then Edgar looked up again. "'Are you new to the system?'" he read out.
Dodgson nodded.
Edgar hit the 'y' key, and the laptop whirred again.
"What now?"
"It's given us a username and password," said Edgar with raised eyebrows.
"Give it to me, I'll write it down," said Dodgson, pulling out a notepad.
"Username is 'User#1109' and password is 'gib307#&'," Edgar read out.
Dodgson scribbled it down, and tore the paper from the notepad, putting the scrap onto the dashboard in front of him. Edgar hit the escape button, and got back to the main screen. Dodgson waited impatiently as Edgar typed in the username and password they had just received, and hit the return key.
Edgar's mouth fell open as he stared at the screen, and turned the screen to face Dodgson.
Jurassic Park Control Module
Remote Access
"Impossible," said Dodgson immediately.
"Apparently not."
"I knew that Murphy was coming here for some fucking miracle cure, but he couldn't have reactivated the park systems. They were only planning to be here an hour or so."
"Maybe it's a residual charge or something," said Edgar, "or maybe it's stuck. Maybe it doesn't do anything."
Dodgson took the computer out of Edgar's lap, cursing, and hit the return key. The computer beeped, and the screen changed.
Control Module – Latest Activity
06/09/9307:17
OperationSafety1 On
Operation: Safety2 On
Operation: Safety3 On
06/09/93 07:18
Operation: Main Power On
06/09/93 08:23
Operation: Fini.obj
20/10/93 23:47
Operation: System Failure IW power fail – fuel gen 0
13/06/07 13:21
Operation: Geothermal Plant Active
Operation: Login 'Hammond' GPlnt CT
Operation: Access Power Distribution Network
Operation: Initialize grid 'ZC-3'
13/06/07 13:23
Operation: Main Access
Operation: Access Radio Network Access Denied
Operation: Logout 'Hammond'
13/06/07 14:02
Operation: Login 'User#1109' RAT
"Jesus Christ," whispered Dodgson.
"What is it? Did something happen?" asked Edgar, leaning over.
Dodgson handed him the laptop, and waited as he read the page. When he'd finished, Edgar raised his head. "A key logger?" he asked.
"Yes," said Dodgson, nodding, "that shows the most recent commands that the system was given."
He took the computer back from Edgar.
"Now," he said, running his finger over the text, "everything above this 'System Failure' must have happened during the incident at the island. See the date?"
"Yeah; 1993."
"Exactly. Now…" Dodgson's voice faded away as he read the rest of the page.
"What?" asked Edgar.
"It's Murphy," breathed Dodgson, "he's been into the system. They're rerouting power. They're here, right now, on the island."
Edgar looked suddenly uncomfortable, and looked out of his window, as if expecting Murphy to have his nose pressed up against the glass.
Dodgson ignored him, and hit the return key.
Nothing happened.
"Maybe it really is a dead system," said Edgar, still peering out of the window.
"I doubt it," murmured Dodgson, rubbing his chin again, "it's managing to update recent activity fine. I think that we've simply logged into an account with elementary access. Read-Only. It's a blank account waiting to have an access level designated to it."
"Not extremely helpful then is it?" whispered Edgar unnecessarily.
"Well, never mind this now. We've got work to do," said Dodgson, putting the lid of the laptop down and stowing it in the glove box. He twisted the key in the ignition, and stepped on the gas.
Ten minutes later they turned off the eastern maintenance road, and began to drive along a narrow and overgrown dirt road. Dodgson accelerated along the path, the Jeep jostling them about. He could hear the trailer behind them bouncing around erratically. There were potholes every few meters where rainfall had collected as puddles, and elementary vegetation littered the ground. But overall it looked in good shape; it was obvious to him that dinosaurs used this road as a convenient route through the thick jungle. But he wasn't about to share this snippet of information with Edgar. Palm trees lapped against the windows, and Dodgson glanced occasionally at the GPS.
He noticed that he could just about make out a myriad of animal footprints that caked the surface of the mud, but they were flying past so quickly that he couldn't see them in any great detail. But even at these speeds he could tell that they ranged from palm sized prints to some to specimens several feet in length.
He was concentrating on the footprints on the road so hard that it took him a moment to react to the black shape that had just flown across the road thirty feet in front of them. It had only been there for a split second, but he knew it had been there, as Edgar had jumped so badly that he had hit his head on the roof of the Jeep. It had been pony sized, and it had been moving at great speed.
Dodgson slammed on the brakes, and the Jeep skidded on the hard dirt of the road. By the time they came to screeching halt, they had reached the place where the animal had been, seconds before. Edgar was looking intently out of his window, in the direction of the departed mystery animal. Dodgson was fairly unconcerned; an animal that size posed no threat to their strengthened vehicle. What he was concerned about was why it had been moving so fast; was it being pursued?
He looked out of his window, in the direction that the animal had come from. He saw nothing but jungle on the other side of the road, and he heard nothing but silence.
He looked at the road surface, and saw the latticework of footprints. He could easily tell which ones had been made by their mystery animal. Older prints were cracked and crumbling, but these ones were in fresh mud, and were layered over the top of the others. These prints were slightly larger than his hand, and reminded him of bird prints. Like an ostrich maybe. The toes were pointed into small claws, but Dodgson was fairly certain that they had been made by a herbivore.
He studied the other prints that lay on the road. There were many different kinds, of all shapes and sizes. Some were long and thin, with small claw-like toes. Some were massive and rounded, with Elephant-like toes. And as he stared hard he could just make out dozens of sets of tiny four toed tracks that barely made an impression in the mud.
He made to turn away, but something caught his eye. He looked at another pair of tracks, and his breath stuck in his throat. He was staring at a set of footprints that ran diagonally across the road, starting at the rear wheel of Edgar's side, and coming underneath the car and out of Dodgson's side, near the front wheel, and disappearing in to the jungle. They were massive, at least three feet long. And they ended in a three equally spaced, splayed claws.
"Lew?" Dodgson heard Edgar's voice from what seemed to be a long way away.
He could feel his chest tightening, and his heartbeat began to pulse in his neck. He gripped the steering wheel harder as he realized what he was looking at.
"Shit," he whispered.
"Lew?"
Dodgson's head snapped back up, and he looked at Edgar. He was looking at Dodgson curiously. It looked as if he hadn't noticed the tracks that surrounded them.
"What were you looking at?" he said.
"Nothing," said Dodgson, and hit the accelerator, but now taking much more care to be quiet.
They drove along in silence for a further three minutes before, with the guidance of the GPS; they turned left onto a much wider road. This one had been laid with thick tarmac, and was at least as wide as a dual carriageway. On one side there was a ten foot high fence that ran adjacent to the road. It was in ruins; the tendrils of wire hung loose, swinging in the breeze. Some sections had completely collapsed, while others were charred and blackened.
This road had almost no foliage growing on it, with only a few shoots of grass breaking up the grey of the road. There were also far less potholes to slow them down.
Dodgson stepped on the accelerator, and sped up to around forty miles per hour. For some reason it felt safer to be travelling at such speed.
"We're coming up on the first cluster," said Edgar, who was monitoring the GPS.
Dodgson nodded. "Get the gun ready," he said quietly.
Edgar unbuckled his seat belt, and reached behind them, fumbling with boxes and supplies. A second later he pulled the silver suitcase that Dodgson had shown him earlier into his lap, and opened the lid.
Dodgson began to slow the Jeep as Edgar pulled out the reflective grip and the silver connecting lead. The Jeep shuddered to a stop as Edgar snapped on end of the lead into the grip, and pulled the round capacitor out of the foam casing. With a quick look around, Dodgson opened the driver's side door, and got out. The air conditioned comfort was destroyed abruptly as he stepped out into the burning daylight. He felt sweat begin to stream from his forehead as turned to see Edgar snapping the capacitor into place and climbing out to join him.
"Where to?" asked Dodgson.
Edgar leaned back into the Jeep for a moment to look at the GPS. Then he came back out, and pointed into the trees to the left. "That way, about hundred and fifty feet."
Dodgson nodded, and, taking the gun, walked slowly into the jungle.
He was momentarily surprised by the amount of sunlight that was cut off as he passed into the trees, and how much hotter it was in there. His feet crunched on dead leaves, and his hearing was overcome by his own breathing and the jungle orchestra of frogs and insects. He heard Edgar enter the jungle a few feet behind him, and they both set off. Dodgson raised to gun in front of him, ready.
They walked along for a minute or so, stopping several times as they became trapped in tangles of vines. Slowly, the sounds of loud chirping and rapid footsteps came to their attention, and Dodgson could see a bright light up ahead, as if the trees ended. There was a clearing ahead. Dodgson turned to Edgar, and put his finger to his lips, and moved forward again. Now there was only a single line of fronds between them and the clearing. Dodgson reached up with his free hand and parted the foliage, and stared into the clearing.
In front of them there was a clearing roughly forty feet square, and it was filled with a dozen animals. They were approximately eight feet tall, and were orange in colouration. They had thin bodies, and long slender neck that formed S-shapes. They reminded him of ostriches, and he was sure that it was one of these that had run out in front of their Jeep a few minutes before.
In the middle of the clearing there were two mounds of dirt, with small indentations in the top. From one of the mounds came several high pitched squeaks.
"What are they?" asked Edgar from behind him.
"Gallimimus," whispered Dodgson, stepping back from the fronds.
"Dangerous?"
"Unlikely. Herbivorous."
He looked at the gun, and twisted the dial, setting it to minimum charge. "Okay, here's the deal," he whispered, "I'll zap one of the infants, you go out and grab it. I'll cover you and take out any adults that charge us, we walk away. We get back to the Jeep as fast as possible, you put the infant in the trailer, and we drive away. Got it?"
Edgar nodded.
"Good," whispered Dodgson.
He grasped the frond in front of him, parted it, and without hesitation, stepped into the clearing.
The Gallimimus looked up at him as one as he stepped into view, staring rather stupidly with apparent curiosity. Their vocalizations ceased altogether, and they seemed unsure of what to do. They just stood there.
Dodgson took this as a good sign; no immediate hostility. He moved forward a few paces, until he could see clearly into the first of the nests. Inside there was a perfect circle of long, narrow eggs which were slightly rounded at the bottom. But no live infants.
He moved forward a few more paces. The Gallimimus backed away from him, forming a huddle at the back of the clearing. The bore the same stupid expression on their faces, their massive eyes cocked to one side.
He peered into the second nest, and smiled. Inside was another circle of eggs. But two of these hatched. Two miniature Gallimimus stared up at him, and squeaked happily. They did an odd sort of dance, hopping from side to side while circling each other.
Dodgson raised the gun, and clicked a switch located to the side of the trigger. Immediately the capacitor began emitting an electrical whine. The electrical connector hummed, and the Gallimimus began chirping in agitation. Making sure that the dial was on minimal charge, he pointed the gun at the smaller of the infants. He squeezed the trigger slightly, and a red laser dot appeared on the forehead of the small Gallimimus. It looked up at him, and hopped up and down, still squeaking happily.
"Too easy," muttered Dodgson, and squeezed the trigger fully.
There was a split second flash of white light, and a spark flew from the tip of the gun, arcing through the air to strike the infant between the eyes. It screeched, and shuddered for a moment, before dropping to the ground, limp.
"Jack, get the kid," grated Dodgson, twisting the dial to quarter charge and aiming it at the adults. He knew that animals this size wouldn't need anything near full charge, but he also knew that they wouldn't like the sight of him zapping their young.
He was right; the moment he had knocked the infant unconscious, several adults chirped loudly in rage, and ran forwards.
Without blinking, he flicked the switch to the side of the trigger again. The gun whined louder this time, and the humming was far stronger, making the grip vibrate in his hand. The capacitor pulsed with each second. The Gallimimus were fast, charging across the clearing with great efficiency. In the corner of his eye he saw Edgar scramble forward into the nest, and pick up the disabled infant. He raised the gun, pointed it at the nearest of the adults, and fired.
There was a loud whooshing sound, like rushing wind, and a crack like an exploding firework. A fully fledged lightning bolt leaped from the end of the lightning gun, and struck the nearest Gallimimus in the chest. It squealed as it was lifted bodily from the ground and thrown backwards, where it lay crumpled and twitching.
At this sight, every dinosaur in the clearing roared. The ones charging him stopped in their tracks, cocking their heads sharply. They were afraid now, but their maternal instinct was almost as strong.
Behind him he heard Edgar's footsteps as he went crashing back into the jungle, heading for the Jeep. Slowly, Dodgson began backing up, towards the tree line. The Gallimimus now looked confused at the disappearance of their infant. They were eyeing Dodgson with the same docile curiosity that they had shown before; as if nothing had happened.
"Stupid…" muttered Dodgson, and turned his back on the dinosaurs, and walked into the trees. "This is going to be easier that I thought."